


Warm Cider & Cinnamon

by violetking



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Pete Davidson - Fandom, Saturday Night Live RPF, US Comedians RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetking/pseuds/violetking
Summary: Writing Prompt: Write about a character who smells something familiar and is instantly taken back to the first moment they smelled it.Visualization here!
Relationships: Pete Davidson & You, Pete Davidson/Original Character(s), Pete Davidson/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Warm Cider & Cinnamon

You don’t know if you’ve ever taken a “quick” trip to Target.

No matter how determined you seemed, whether or not you had a list, if you were shopping alone or with someone else - you always spent at least an hour in that store. Not that you were complaining.

But here you were again, having come to pick up cereal and toilet paper, finding yourself in the candle aisle. You pick up and test a few, trying to decide which you should add to your cart.

But when you get a whiff of the Warm Cider & Cinnamon scented candle, you are instantly transported elsewhere, to a memory long tucked away in the corner of your mind.

\--

_"What are you drinking?” Pete asks, nodding in the direction of your Starbucks cup._

_You look down to your mittened hands snaked around your drink. You didn’t know if November in New York was too soon for mittens, but you were always cold. You can hear the leaves crunching beneath your boots, as you walk side-by-side through Central Park. You bite your lip and carefully consider your response. Was it too soon to tell your date that you were drinking in the middle of the park before 4pm?_

_“It’s a spiked hot apple cider.” You relent with a sigh, looking over to him._

_Well. Congratulations. You’ve successfully fucked up your first (and likely only) date with Pete Davidson._

_“Sick.” He reaches his hand out, silently asking for a taste, and you gladly hand it over, surprised. He tips the cup back and swallows, thinking for a minute before passing the drink back to you._

_“Fireball?” He guesses, licking his lips. He nods. “Definitely Fireball.”_

_“Yeah…” Okay. Not the reaction you were expecting. “I usually don’t drink in the middle of the day, but I was sort of nervous.” You admit, not sure why you’re revealing this much. Blame it on the liquor._

_“Nervous?” He stops, scrunching up his face. “Why?”_

_You turn to face him, take another sip of your drink, and shrug. You grin and continue walking. He jogs to meet you._

_“Because cute boys make me nervous.” You concede, looking up at him through your eyelashes, trying your best to turn this into flirting and not a discussion about Xanax._

_“Sure.” He rolls his eyes and motions to the cup. “Hand it over.” He instructs, smiling as he takes another sip._

_“You like it?” You ask, genuinely interested._

_“Hell yeah.” He takes another sip._

_You continue just like this - walking side-by-side, shoulders occasionally bumping, passing your drink back and forth - until you reach an empty bench._

_You exhale, with a smile. “I love fall in New York.”_

_He takes another drink. He’s glancing over at you, brightly colored leaves and trees creating the perfect backdrop for this sight; a world of its own in the middle of the city._

_He holds the cup out in front of your mouth with a smile, before pulling it back toward his own and stealing another sip._

_“Hey!” You laugh, shoving his shoulder._

_The next moment seems to happen in slow motion. He leans toward you, his empty hand finding the side of your face, and gently brushes his lips against yours._

_You can feel a smile spreading across your face, your eyes still closed. He moves to put his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close._

_“I love fall in New York, too.” He kisses the top of your head and hands your drink back._

_The drink isn’t hot anymore - it’s been cold for a while now - but it doesn’t matter. Your adrenaline is keeping you plenty warm._

_You finish the drink and settle against Pete’s side. A moment goes by, silent between the two of you._

_“So,” He nudges against you. “Should we have drinks in the park again next week?”_

_You chuckle and look up at him, nodding your head, before pressing your lips to his. He tastes like apple cider and cinnamon._

\--

“There you are.” His voice jolts you out of your reverie. One of his sneakers squeaks as he stops abruptly and changes direction to head down the aisle toward you.

“Hey,” You start, smiling. You put the top on the candle and place it back on the shelf.

He smirks and motions toward it. “You’re smelling our first date candle?” He asks, as he reaches to grab it. Your head snaps up to face him.

“Our what?” You question, eyebrows knitted, peering over at your boyfriend as he brings the candle up to his nose.

“Oh, this candle.” He holds it out, imploring you to take a sniff. “Doesn’t it smell like our first date?” It’s a question, but he is so obviously sure of himself.

“Yeah...I was just…” You look to him, then the candle, then back to him, and start again. “That’s so weird. How did you know that?”

“Know what?” He asks, as he sets the candle back on the shelf. “We had that drink.” He shrugs, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. You shake your head at him and chuckle.

“What?” He queries, his head cocked to the side.

“Nothing. Nothing!” You move toward him, the faintest hint of butterflies in your belly, and wrap your arms around his waist. Pete slings an arm over you and runs his hand up and down your back. You sigh. “I just love you.” You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest.

“I just love you, too.” He replies, dipping down to place a kiss on your forehead, your temple, your cheekbone. “Are we ready to go home?”

You nod and detach yourself from him, turning your attention back to your shopping cart. You debate for a moment before grabbing one of the candles and adding it to your lot.

“We don’t need that.” He’s already halfway down the aisle.

“But-” You start.

He turns around, his arms outstretched, a grin on his face. “I bought like six of them last week.”


End file.
